[Whoever came up with this ticket exchange rate system really should've put more thought into it, Medic thinks. "Anything valuable" is really much too vague, because as far as he's concerned, everything he has on him is valuable, from his glasses to his nice expensive tie (don't be fooled by the tiny dark red splotches marring it — it'll clean up just fine), to the bottled specimen he's flourishing in front of the exasperated, slightly ill-looking clerk right now.]
—Heterochromia with a touch of cataract! Not astoundingly rare, but I just had to have it. It has a very exotic aura about it, doesn't it?
[He chuckles lightly, tilting his head at the bottle. Yep, that sure is an eyeball in there. The more Medic looks at it, the softer his expression gets, almost like he's running his eyes over a very old, well-loved photograph.]
Ah, on second thought... [He pockets the bottle, then starts digging around for something else in his coat pockets 'o terror.] Perhaps something a little less dear. Oh! [He brightens.] I have a few loose molars my friend gifted me, perhaps—?
[And on and on it goes with Medic pulling out one horrific thing after to present to the clerk before withdrawing it, unable to decide on what he wants to part with. Someone desperately needs to step in and play mediator.]
b. (trying to leaf)
[A gentle note to self: when lost in a labyrinthine and possibly even cursed forest, taking your anger out on the local flora and fauna is possibly one of the worst ideas you can come up with. Kicking one of the stouter trees carrying those weird looking glowy fruits was admittedly a childish move (something he'd expect from a brat like Scout), but in the midst of his frustration, what else could he have done? He was lost, aimlessly wandering through a forest that looked less and less like any of the ones he'd ever seen before. If there was anyone around who cared more about the well-being of the plants over his own then, well, let them stop him. He could use the company, even if it was likely to be short-lived and violent.
The moment his foot connects with the trunk of the one closest to him, the branches seem to...shiver. No, twitch? Whatever it is, it's a very strange motion, all jerky rustles and quivers, and there's no breeze in the air to trigger it. His anger momentarily quelled with a new interest, Medic takes a step back to watch the tree curiously—]
AH!
[—and then stumbles back to fall right on his ass when one of the fruits hanging above him is lobbed his way, hitting him square in the face with enough force to knock his glasses off.
Embarrassing doesn't even begin to cover it.]
c. (ferris wheel junk)
I wonder if we can take them home with us.
[It's an idle thought that comes to Medic at roughly the first hour mark. One heart-pounding, stomach-churning hour later and he (and whoever is with him) still hasn't been rescued from the ride. It's pretty— okay, it's really discouraging, what with the whole dying unpleasantly thing still being a very present concern, but he's not minding it too much. The view up here is fantastic and the stars are lovely. His comment comes from the one he's currently picking and poking at from his seat, leaning forward against the guard-rail with his chin propped on one hand while the other continues to prod at the twinkling ball of light hovering above him.
It even makes little noises, sort of akin to wind chimes. He titters a little giggle at that.]
(red) medic | team fortress 2
[Whoever came up with this ticket exchange rate system really should've put more thought into it, Medic thinks. "Anything valuable" is really much too vague, because as far as he's concerned, everything he has on him is valuable, from his glasses to his nice expensive tie (don't be fooled by the tiny dark red splotches marring it — it'll clean up just fine), to the bottled specimen he's flourishing in front of the exasperated, slightly ill-looking clerk right now.]
—Heterochromia with a touch of cataract! Not astoundingly rare, but I just had to have it. It has a very exotic aura about it, doesn't it?
[He chuckles lightly, tilting his head at the bottle. Yep, that sure is an eyeball in there. The more Medic looks at it, the softer his expression gets, almost like he's running his eyes over a very old, well-loved photograph.]
Ah, on second thought... [He pockets the bottle, then starts digging around for something else in his coat pockets 'o terror.] Perhaps something a little less dear. Oh! [He brightens.] I have a few loose molars my friend gifted me, perhaps—?
[And on and on it goes with Medic pulling out one horrific thing after to present to the clerk before withdrawing it, unable to decide on what he wants to part with. Someone desperately needs to step in and play mediator.]
b. (trying to leaf)
[A gentle note to self: when lost in a labyrinthine and possibly even cursed forest, taking your anger out on the local flora and fauna is possibly one of the worst ideas you can come up with. Kicking one of the stouter trees carrying those weird looking glowy fruits was admittedly a childish move (something he'd expect from a brat like Scout), but in the midst of his frustration, what else could he have done? He was lost, aimlessly wandering through a forest that looked less and less like any of the ones he'd ever seen before. If there was anyone around who cared more about the well-being of the plants over his own then, well, let them stop him. He could use the company, even if it was likely to be short-lived and violent.
The moment his foot connects with the trunk of the one closest to him, the branches seem to...shiver. No, twitch? Whatever it is, it's a very strange motion, all jerky rustles and quivers, and there's no breeze in the air to trigger it. His anger momentarily quelled with a new interest, Medic takes a step back to watch the tree curiously—]
AH!
[—and then stumbles back to fall right on his ass when one of the fruits hanging above him is lobbed his way, hitting him square in the face with enough force to knock his glasses off.
Embarrassing doesn't even begin to cover it.]
c. (ferris wheel junk)
I wonder if we can take them home with us.
[It's an idle thought that comes to Medic at roughly the first hour mark. One heart-pounding, stomach-churning hour later and he (and whoever is with him) still hasn't been rescued from the ride. It's pretty— okay, it's really discouraging, what with the whole dying unpleasantly thing still being a very present concern, but he's not minding it too much. The view up here is fantastic and the stars are lovely. His comment comes from the one he's currently picking and poking at from his seat, leaning forward against the guard-rail with his chin propped on one hand while the other continues to prod at the twinkling ball of light hovering above him.
It even makes little noises, sort of akin to wind chimes. He titters a little giggle at that.]